


The Lunatic Fringe

by franscats



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 22:43:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3398948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/franscats/pseuds/franscats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scientists kidnap Jim and run some experiments on him.  After Jim escapes, the scientists become the prey and Jim and Blair the hunters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lunatic Fringe

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings - mention of torture (not graphic).
> 
> This was written for Sentinel Thursday challenge #512 - lunatic fringe.

How is he, Sandburg?” Simon asked, in a near whisper.

Blair looked up at the question and shook his head, wearily. The dark circles under his eyes and the pale complexion adding to the look of exhaustion. “I don’t know, Simon. The one time he woke up, he was totally disoriented and,” he swallowed before adding, “irrational. He kept trying to get away. I don’t think he realized he’s in a hospital.” Blair went back to watching Jim, one hand holding Jim’s. “By the time I got in the room they had restrained and sedated him.”

“It’s not your fault you weren’t there when he woke up. The hospital took their damn sweet time about letting you in with him,” Simon knew Blair would blame himself for what happened.

“If I had been here to talk to him, get through to him, they might not have needed to sedate him. You know he has problems with drug sensitivity. And these restraints – how do you put restraints on a man who has been restrained and tortured for the last two months.”

“When Jim wakes up rational, they’ll remove them,” Simon tried to be reasonable, despite the fact that he had been asking himself the same question when he walked in the hospital room and saw Jim.

Blair didn’t answer. He had already been warned that if he removed the restraints, he would be ousted from the hospital. 

“Have you heard from the doctors?” Simon asked, pulling over a chair. Dropping his coat on the back, he took a seat, leaning forward to press a hand on Blair’s shoulder in support.

“They found a cocktail of drugs in his blood, including ketamine and cocaine.”

“Shit. What about his physical condition.” 

Blair looked over Jim’s still figure. Jim had been found wandering down Cascade’s Main Street in just a pair of sweats and slippers – in an icy rain storm. The marks on both his wrists and ankles indicated that he had been restrained and there were burns all over his arms and torso. He was mumbling to himself and unaware of anything going on. The officers who found him had first called 911 and then, when they realized it was Jim Ellison, Simon Banks.

“He’s lost twenty pounds and is suffering from dehydration and starvation,” Blair said in a dead voice. Blair knew if he tried to catalog the wounds any other way, he would lose it. “He’s got burns all over his body. The doctors think it might have been from cigarettes. He’s got two broken fingers on his left hand - that were not treated. The doctors have reset them and think they’ll heal okay.

“There’s…there’s,” Blair’s voice shook and changed to a croak and he paused wiping his eyes before continuing in the same deadpan voice. “There’s evidence of electrical burns on his chest. He’s got three cracked ribs and scars from what can only be whippings on his back, some new, some old.” A tear rolled down Blair’s cheek.

“Was he…” Simon paused. He didn’t even want to say the word raped.

Blair seemed to understand and shook his head. “There was no evidence-“he stopped, as a sob escaped him. “Who would do this, Simon?” 

“I don’t know kid. But I’m going to do my damnedest to find out.” Blair nodded and Simon glanced over him. “Why don’t you get a cup of coffee and I’ll sit with Jim.”

“NO!“ Blair’s tone was fierce. “I’m not leaving this room until Jim wakes up.” 

Simon had expected this answer and sighed. “I’m going to post a guard outside the hospital room door. If the doctors give you a hard time about being here, tell them you’re part of the security detail.”

“Thanks, Simon.”

The Captain of Major Crimes stood. “I’m going to get you a cup of coffee and then I’m going to head back to the office. Call me the minute Jim’s awake.”

“Will do,” Blair turned back to watching Jim.

***

Twelve hours later, Jim opened his eyes and looked around the room; his gaze coming to rest on the anthropologist slumped over him, sleeping. He went to raise a hand to touch Blair and make sure he was real, but realized he couldn’t move his hand. Panic set it immediately as he flashed back to the lab he had been kept in and his body tensed as his respiration jumped, waking Blair. 

Realizing Jim was awake and panicking, Blair leaned over him, a hand on either side of Jim’s face, acting as blinders, keeping Jim focused on Blair’s face. “Easy, Jim, relax. You’re safe. You had a bad reaction to some medicine. I’ll get the doctor and have these off you in a couple of minutes.”

Jim’s breathing slowed as he looked at Blair. “Where are we?” he whispered. 

“Cascade General.”

Jim gave a curt nod and kept his eyes focused on Blair. “How long?”

“How long?”

“How long have I been gone?”

“You’ve been gone two months. We found you wandering down Cascade’s Main Street eighteen hours ago.” Jim considered this a moment and then leaned back closing his eyes, Blair’s hands reluctantly, sliding from Jim’s face.

“How are you feeling?” Blair asked, as he hit the call button for the nurse.

“Better than in the lab,” Jim whispered, with a shudder, Blair noting the term, lab.

“And your senses?”

“Offline.”

“Right now, I think that might be a good thing,” Blair answered, his hand once again closing on Jim’s, their fingers entwining as Blair resumed his seat.

Within minutes, one of the doctors was in the room. “Hello, Mr. Ellison, I’m Dr. Murphy. How are you feeling?”

“I’d feel better if these were off,” Jim answered trying to lift one hand, and the doctor looked over at the restraints, cautiously.

“You had a reaction to some drugs and we needed to restrain you. I think it might be a good idea to leave them on a little longer, in case there are flashbacks.”

“No,” Jim and Blair said it at the same time, Blair in anger knowing Jim had been imprisoned and restrained in the last two months, Jim wearily.

“Dr. Simmons ordered them. He is the resident psychiatrist. I’ll page him and ask that he come in. I’m sure he’ll rescind the order once he’s had a chance to evaluate Mr. Ellison,” Dr. Murphy said, in a condescending tone, annoyed that patient and visitor contradicted him.

“That’s Detective Ellison,” Blair bristled, turning on the resident. “And either you take them off or I will,” Blair said, coldly. “Jim’s awake and he’s lucid. He doesn’t need restraints.” Blair’s voice had gone up in volume with each word and Dr. Murphy stepped back, feeling intimidated and wondering about both men in the room. The man sitting beside the bed seemed violent and he knew first hand that the patient was too. He had been working the emergency room when Ellison had been admitted, out of his head and violent. He had wanted to put Ellison right into the psych ward but Dr. Simmons, Chief of Psychiatry, had vetoed the suggestion. He wanted to rule out a drug reaction before committing him. However, Dr. Simmons had ordered the restraints to ensure Jim didn’t do any damage to himself or anyone else as he came down off of whatever drug cocktail he had been given – and to soothe the resident’s nerves.

“You’re upsetting my patient. Either you calm down or I’ll have you removed,” Murphy threatened. 

Blair turned a cold stare on the doctor, ready to say “TRY AND REMOVE ME,” but before he could issue the threat, Dr. Simmons walked in. He had been down the hall and heard from the nurse that Detective Ellison was conscious. 

“Detective Ellison, you’re awake. Let me get the restraints off,” he moved to the bedside and began unbuckling a restraint as Blair removed the other restraint. “You had a reaction to the drugs you were given, but they should be leaving your system. How are you feeling?”

“My fingers hurt.”

The doctor nodded. “We reset them while you were unconscious. They weren’t healing properly but they should heal fine, now.”

“Dr. Murphy, do you have anything to add?”

The doctor didn’t answer, immediately. He hadn’t examined Jim. “I’ll do an examination and-”

“No,” Blair repeated, coldly. “I want someone else to examine him.”

Dr. Murphy started to protest, but Simmons nodded. “According to the records I was just reviewing, Dr. McCoy is your regular physician. He’s in the hospital. I’ll have him paged,” he indicated that Dr. Murphy should precede him into the hall. Jim, listening could hear Simmons lecture Murphy. “Doctor, Detective Ellison was restrained and tortured. We don’t want him reliving that horror in our hospital. As soon as you knew he was lucid, you should have removed the restraints.”

“What if he relapses? He’s dangerous,” Murphy countered, but it sounded like a whine to Jim.

“Jim,” Blair interrupted Jim’s eavesdropping. “I’m going to call Simon and let him know you’re awake. Do you know who did this to you?”

“I don’t know,” came a tired voice as Jim began to drift back to sleep. 

Blair turned and looked over Jim, a tender smile lighting his face. It was the first time in two months that he did smile. Jim had been so out of it when he was found that Blair had worried about long term reactions, zones and spikes. As a sentinel, a man with five heightened senses, Jim did not take well to modern drugs and had all types of adverse reactions. 

For two months, Blair had lived a nightmare, not knowing what had happened to Jim. The sentinel had disappeared, his truck found abandoned, his badge, wallet and gun in the truck. Forensics had gone over the truck with a fine tooth comb but found nothing. APBs had been put out, old cases reviewed but nothing had turned up. And then, out of the blue, Jim had turned up, drugged and abused. Not wanting to leave, but knowing he had to call Simon; Blair went to the door, saluting the cop on duty as he walked to the nurses’ station. Dr. Simmons was there and looked over at Blair. “Dr. McCoy will be in to see Detective Ellison in an hour. Is there anything I can do in the meantime?”

“Can he have water, food, some Tylenol?”

“I would prefer to hold off on drugs until Dr. McCoy sees him, the same with food. But, yes, he can have water. And you don’t have to worry; I won’t have him put in a psych ward, though I will strongly recommend that he receive counseling after what he has gone through.”

“He’ll need it,” Blair agreed and asked for a phone to call the PD.

***

Jim drifted off to sleep before Blair left the room, but his eyes flew open as soon as he started to dream. Unfortunately, the memories were no less horrifying than the dream had been. He could still see them, three of them, scientists wearing white coats. They had him strapped down on a metal table and kept asking him about his senses, poking and prodding him. When he proved uncooperative, they resorted to torture and drugs. They wanted him to verify what Blair had written about his heightened senses and they wanted to perform the same tests Blair had – and then more painful tests. In the back of the detective’s mind, Jim acknowledged that Blair had not published anything, yet. So, these scientists had to have some connection to Rainier and Blair’s research in order to know what tests Blair had done. 

He didn’t know where he had been kept. It had been in the basement of some kind of institution or office building. The room had been nothing more than a cell with a hard white light fixed to the ceiling, a bed bolted to the floor, a sink and a toilet. When he wasn’t being experimented on, food was passed in to the room through a slot in the door – once a day when he was more uncooperative than usual - twice a day when they hadn’t needed his cooperation.

Jim had only ever seen two shifts of guards in the place and the same three scientists, sometimes together and sometimes separately. Jim guessed that it was a small operation. And though he was pretty sure the scientists did work for the government on a regular basis, Jim doubted this was a government op. He was certain there would have been lab assistants and more sophisticated equipment if it had been sanctioned.

Sighing in relief that he was in a hospital, Jim ran a hand across his face and turned to the door as Blair came back in. 

“Hey, Jim, I’ve got some water for you,” he poured water into a Styrofoam cup and put a straw in it, holding it out to Jim.

“Thanks,” Jim answered, reaching for the drink with his uninjured hand. His hand shook a little as he took the cup but not enough for Blair to take the cup from him. 

“Jim, do you know where you were kept? Or why someone did this to you?” he asked, as Jim sipped at the cool water.

“I don’t know where I was kept. As to the why,” Jim added wearily “they were studying my senses.”

“You think Brackett said something?”

Jim shrugged, not voicing his theory. There would be time to go over where the information came from when he was stronger and could investigate. He didn’t want Blair trying to find these people, not alone.

“Did they let you go?”

“They were going to transfer me somewhere. They were losing the use of the lab. They gave me some drugs so they could move me. I knew I had to get away. I dialed up everything to counteract the drugs, kicked the guard putting me in the ambulance, and took off. I didn’t know where I was and just kept going.”

“Good, good,” Blair soothed. “What matters is you are here.”

Jim yawned. “The guards didn’t know I could hear them,” his voice began to slur, as his eyes closed. “I knew I had to get away before they got me to the compound,” he answered, handing Blair the cup.

“What compound, Jim?” Blair asked softly, but Jim was already asleep.

***

An hour later, Dr. McCoy came and asked Blair to wait outside while he examined Jim. His face was sober as he looked over the obvious signs of torture and he quickly ordered: antibiotic creams for his skin, Tylenol for pain and food for his general state. When Jim insisted he could walk to the bathroom, Dr. McCoy ordered the removal of the catheter and promised, once the IV was done, the IV would be removed.

“Jim,” he said, as he took a seat beside the bed. “There is nothing that has happened to you that won’t heal in time. We reset your fingers,” he indicated the pinky and ring finger on Jim’s left hand, both fingers in casts and splints, “and we don’t expect any problems with them. Your cracked ribs, while painful, are healing. The burns will fade, probably faster with the cream. But physical healing is only part of the healing process. I recommend that you see a counselor. There’s going to be flashbacks and nightmares and anyone who has been through what you have would need help.

“Dr. Simmons could recommend someone who deals with your type of injuries.” McCoy stood. “I’m not going to order any drugs. As much as I think a sedative might help you relax, I want to clear your system. However, if you decide you need a pain killer, I will authorize it.”

Jim nodded, sleepily, and Dr. McCoy sighed. “Get some rest. I’ll speak with Dr. Simmons about some possible referrals.”

“Thanks, Dr. McCoy,” Jim closed his eyes as McCoy left and a nurse entered the room to remove the catheter, followed soon after by Blair.

Jim was still sleeping when Simon walked into the hospital room carrying coffee two hours later. Blair looked up from the article he was reading, put the magazine aside, and gratefully stood, stretching before taking the cup.

“How’s Jim,” Simon whispered.

“Sore as hell,” Jim grumbled, opening one eye to look at Simon. 

Blair turned and smiled at the tone. While the voice didn’t sound robust, it sounded like pure Jim. After the croaking and shaky voice Jim had earlier, the tone and sound were very welcome. “The doctors say he’ll make a full recovery and he can come home in two days, if there are no complications.”

“Thank God,” Simon sighed, pulling up a chair. “Are you up for some questions?” 

Jim nodded.

“Do you know who took you?”

“No, but it was someone who knew I was a sentinel.”

Simon paused as he realized that would make the investigation far more difficult. Jim’s senses were a secret best kept under wraps. “Who would know?” Simon asked.

“Besides us,” Jim waved his hand, “my father.”

“And Brackett,” Blair added, quietly. 

“Could he be behind this?” Simon asked, not sure what kind of contacts Brackett might have – and who he might have told about Jim.

“It’s possible. You should check and see if he’s still in prison.” Jim stopped and reached for the water, taking a sip. “If Brackett did have something to do with this, it wasn’t sanctioned.”

“How do you know?” Simon challenged.

Jim took a breath. “Three scientists, four guards and a small lab. If this was sanctioned, they would have had a lot more equipment and support. And a hell of a lot more security.”

“Can you give us a description of any of them? I can get a sketch artist here.”

“All of my senses were jumbled, Simon. I’m not sure I could.”

“Any idea where you were kept?”

“It was the basement of a building. They converted a room into a cell. It was next to the lab.”

“When you were falling asleep, you mentioned a compound,” Blair took his seat beside Jim. “Can you tell us anything about it?”

“They were worried about keeping me in the cell too long. I think they were worried someone was coming and would be using the lab. They didn’t want to be discovered and decided to take me somewhere more isolated. They mentioned moving me to the compound.

“When I heard them talking about moving me the next day, I figured they were going to drug my food. So, I didn’t eat the dinner or breakfast they brought me, just threw the food down the toilet. When they came, I acted drugged and they gave me a shot of something and put me on a stretcher. I knew it was my only chance at getting away, so, I took it.”

“The building must be somewhere near Main Street,” Blair turned to Simon. “Jim couldn’t have traveled far.”

“There are a lot of buildings in the area,” Simon warned. “And they were moving you at night, when most were empty. I’ve got some uniforms canvassing the area, trying to see if anyone saw you, but on an icy, rainy night we may not find a witness.”

Jim nodded his understanding as Simon asked, “How did they get you, Jim?”

“I got shot with some kind of dart. They next thing I knew, I was on a table and someone was talking about my senses.”

Simon glanced at Blair. “We can arrange a safe house,” he began, but Jim shook his head no.

“I need to be home, Simon. It’s the only way my senses will relax.”

“They might come after you.”

“I’ll be in the loft where I can hear anyone coming and I’m on my guard now.”

Simon didn’t like it, but he nodded. “I’ll set up a squad car outside your building when you get home. And you don’t go anywhere without an escort. If they could hit you with a dart once…” Simon didn’t finish. There was no need.

“Agreed,” Jim rested back against the pillows. “But I think you should take Blair home and let him get some sleep.”

“No way, man. I’m not leaving until you do.”

“Chief, I’m alert. I know what’s going on and there is a guard outside the door.”

“He’s right, Sandburg. You look like you could use some sleep.”

“And a shower,” Jim added, amused.

“How about I get you some food on the way to the loft. You can get some sleep and then I’ll give you a lift to Jim’s truck so you can drive over.”

Blair looked at Simon and then at Jim and then finally nodded. He didn’t want to leave but knew he’d need his strength in the coming days to help Jim. “Okay, but Jim you call me if they want to give you any medicine, or if your senses have a problem.”

“I will and Chief, when you come back, bring Wonderburger. I could use a good meal.”

“I wouldn’t call it a good meal,” Blair groused before following Simon out of the hospital room.

***

For the next two days, Jim was poked and prodded, blood was taken numerous times, salves were rubbed into burns and cuts and his overall condition was treated. Blair was with him constantly, going home only to eat dinner and to sleep at night. He helped Jim get his senses online properly and helped him get his pain dial set low down. And a guard remained posted at Jim’s door.

Jim seemed to be handling the situation and what had been done to him rather well, but Blair was not fooled. He knew Jim hadn’t come to terms with the torture he had been subjected to and Blair suspected that Jim wasn’t sleeping at night. He tried to broach the subject with Jim but Jim had shaken his head. “Not here, Chief,” he said softly. “I don’t want to deal with anything until I’m out of here.”

“What about something to help you sleep?” Blair asked.

“I want to get all the drugs out of my system.”

“I know but-” Blair stopped as Dr. Murphy entered the room.

“Mr. Ellison,” he inclined his head. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I am ready to leave.”

The doctor nodded with a forced smile. He had pretty much avoided Detective Ellison since their small disagreement two days earlier. “We will examine you this evening and if everything is progressing, you will be discharged in the morning.”

“Go home, Chief. Get some dinner and I’ll see you in the morning.”

Blair glanced over at Dr. Murphy. He didn’t like the doctor and thought about staying with Jim through the exam but realizing he was being ridiculous, nodded. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Dr. Murphy watched him go and then turned back to Jim. “I’ll need to do a final review of your burns.” He walked out and Jim could hear him calling for assistance.

Dr. Murphy returned a few minutes later with an orderly. The orderly was a large man and Jim suspected the doctor was afraid to examine him without a strong arm at his side. It almost made Jim laugh. He had been starved for two months, had lost weight, his hands and body had slight tremors – a reaction to the drugs and exhaustion - and he could still intimidate someone. 

Donning gloves, Murphy asked Jim to remove his hospital gown and examined the burns on the front of his body, applying cream to them, before asking him to turn over. He then examined did the same on Jim’s back. “I’ll fill out the paperwork; you can leave in the morning.”

Jim nodded as the doctor left the room. Stretching, he rested his head back against a pillow and closed his eyes, trying not to think about doctors and exams as unwanted images invaded Jim’s mind, images of the lab and tests he had been subjected to. 

Jim opened his eyes and stared around the hospital room. There had been three scientists. And though they didn’t know it yet, they were now the prey and he the hunter. He wasn’t sure what he would do when he caught them. The sentinel within him wanted to put them down as animals endangering the tribe, but Jim was still a police officer and hunting and killing the scientists would be pre-meditated murder. In any case, he would see to it that they were stopped.

***

The hospital doctors had listed Jim as unable to work while recovering and suggested a minimum of six weeks rest and recuperation. They had specifically noted the broken fingers and ribs, burns and weight loss as areas of concern and recommended rest, food and counseling.

Jim only half listened to their suggestions and then accepted the paperwork and headed out with Blair. The truck was parked in the hospital lot and Blair moved slowly towards it to keep Jim at a slow, even pace. It was obvious Jim was not as steady on his feet as he tried to make people believe. Insisting on driving, Blair maneuvered the vehicle to the door by the loft and let Jim off before parking. 

When he entered the building, he was glad to see that the pigheaded sentinel had taken the elevator to the loft. Blair quickly made his way up to their apartment and immediately moved to the fridge pouring some apple juice and getting Jim some Tylenol and some pretzels.

“Eat the pretzels and take the Tylenol. I can see the effect traveling from the hospital has had.” Jim sighed in response and slowly sat down on the couch, his eyes moving over his home with relief. Watching him, Blair realized Jim hadn’t been sure he would ever get home again when he was taken.

“Thanks,” Jim said in a tired voice as Blair took a seat beside him and reached over to squeeze Jim’s arm in support.

“Would you care to tell me what you really know about who held you?” Blair asked, watching Jim closely.

“Why would you think I didn’t tell you and Simon everything?” Jim asked, cautiously.

“Because I know what you are capable of. Your senses weren’t so screwed up for two months that you couldn’t recognize the people who held you.”

“Maybe I never saw them.”

“Maybe you’re lying,” Blair countered.

Jim rubbed his eyes and turned to stare into Blair’s eyes, seeing care and concern. “I don’t know their names,” he said. “And I’m not sure I could give a sketch artist enough information to get a likeness. I wasn’t lying when I told Simon that. But I think I know how to find them.”

“You know how to find them,” Blair repeated cautiously, and Jim nodded.

“The question is what to do when I do find them.”

Blair considered this for a moment understanding that Jim didn’t want a court case with the defendants claiming Jim had super senses. “Okay, tell me,” Blair said quietly.

Jim looked down at the splints on his two fingers. He knew when he told Blair his suspicions Blair would be horrified, and would blame himself for what had happened. “At least one of the scientists was on your dissertation committee.”

“What?” it came out as a gasp. “Jim no, that can’t be.”

“Sandburg. Blair,” Jim said more gently, then paused and reached out his uninjured hand, his fingers closing over Blair’s wrist. “They knew every test you had performed. They were familiar with your dissertation and we both know that there are Rainier scientists who do research for shadow organizations.”

“No, Jim,” Blair shook his head. “I know the people on my committee. They would never do something like this. Maybe someone broke in and made a copy of the dissertation notes,” Blair answered, reaching for any excuse despite the fact that he never noticed his dissertation information being tampered with.

“There’s any easy way to figure this out. Is there anything, any test that you haven’t written about yet but might have mentioned to your dissertation committee?”

Blair considered the question for a moment and then nodded. “I did mention that I hadn’t written it up but I had tested your sensitivity to miniscule amounts of diphenhydramine and loratadine. It’s the primary ingredients in-“

“Claritin and Benadryl,” Jim answered. “They gave those two drugs to me in various doses to see the effects.” 

“Shit. I was doing tests to see what would work best if you had an allergic reaction.”

“I think they just wanted to see the effects.”

Unable to sit still, Blair jumped up and started pacing. “I am so sorry,” he said, his voice shaking with emotion, as he rubbed at his eyes to hold back tears. “I can’t believe I did this to you.”

“Hold it right there, Chief.” Jim practically growled, wishing he could stand and shake some sense into the younger man, but his body was just too sore. “You did not do this and you are not responsible.” Jim paused rubbing a hand over his face, exhausted. He knew it would take forever for Blair to realize he hadn’t been the torturer. “Look, let’s not worry about why it happened; we can work that out later. Let’s think about what to do about it. We can’t tip our hand here. The scientists don’t know we can connect at least one of them to your dissertation. We’re going to have to figure out who did this and then find some way to make them pay.”

“Are you going to tell Simon?”

Jim nodded. “Yeah, I held back in the hospital because I didn’t want you going off half-cocked trying to figure this out without me. If I said something before I got out of the hospital, you would have gone off to investigate on your own.”

Blair rolled his eyes at the statement but truthfully, he couldn’t deny the accuracy of it. Instead, he turned to the kitchen, needing to move and do something positive. “I’m going to make you some lunch. The doctors say you need to gain weight.” Jim nodded absently as Blair began pulling things from the fridge. As he pulled out the food, he turned and looked over at Jim. “I don’t understand why they didn’t feed you properly. I mean they must have known it would make you sick. How would that help them?”

“It had to do with control. I think they wanted to make me feel helpless. Especially, as they didn’t have as much control as they pretended. I wasn’t being held in a completely secure place.”

“That’s why they were going to move you,” Blair whispered, as he began chopping vegetables.

“And that’s why I knew I had to get away. I don’t know where this compound is, but it sounded a lot more secure.”

Blair nodded, finishing the chopping of the vegetables before stir frying them and adding shrimp. Putting the food on a tray, he carried it over to the sofa and put it down in front of Jim. “But if you’re right and the abduction wasn’t sanctioned wouldn’t bringing you to some compound get them in trouble?"

Jim accepted a plate of food as he glanced at his friend. “Probably not, if they could prove I was a sentinel,” he answered, before taking a bite of the food.

“Were…were they able to?” Blair whispered, his voice shaking as he stared at Jim, his face losing all color.

Jim shook his head, glancing over at his partner. He could see how much this was hurting Blair. “I kept thinking about your exercises and it helped me keep the dials down. But I can’t say what happened while I was drugged.”

“God, this is a nightmare,” Blair put his plate down, his appetite gone. Agitated, he stood and again started pacing, before glancing at his laptop. Grabbing it, he brought it over to the sofa. “I can pull up pictures of my dissertation committee and you can tell me if you recognize anyone.”

Jim waved his fork indicating that Blair should continue and Blair turned on and booted up his computer. There were five professors on Blair’s dissertation committee and Blair held his breath as he pulled up a picture of Dr. Eli Stoddard. Stoddard was Blair’s mentor and the idea that he might torture someone was horrifying. “This is the chair of my committee,” he turned the computer to face Jim and watched as Jim glanced over the face before shaking his head.

“He doesn’t look familiar.” Sighing in relief, Blair pulled up pictures of three other professors. One of them, Professor Harold Buckner, Jim pointed a finger at. “He was there, Chief.”

Closing his eyes in despair, Blair said quietly, his voice giving no hint of inflection, “Professor Buckner was my academic advisor when I first came to Rainier. I specifically asked that he be part of my dissertation committee because I wanted to make him proud.” 

“I’m sorry, Blair,” Jim said softly and Blair shook his head, knowing he should be the one apologizing. He was responsible for what had happened to Jim.

“I would never have believed he could be involved in something like this,” Blair said quietly as he sat back down, all his energy spent. Feeling sick he pushed his food aside, staring blindly at the computer. “We need to know who he was connected with,” Blair finally roused himself and continued, ruthlessly suppressing any personal feelings about Harold Buckner. He didn’t have time for personal regrets; he had to consider Jim’s needs. As it was, he was responsible for what had happened to Jim and he wasn’t sure how he could make up for it, if ever. 

“I’ll get Simon to set up surveillance,” Jim reached for the phone, but Blair stopped him.

“I have a better idea,” Blair answered, and taking the phone dialed Rainier. “I’d like to speak with Jack Kelso.”

Jack Kelso, friend to Blair Sandburg and Professor of World Studies at Rainier, was a former CIA operative. He had been a long time employee of the covert agency and still had quite a few connections in the business. So, in very short order he supplied Blair with the names of two scientists who had in the past worked with Dr. Buckner for some government think tank. Passing on the information, the former CIA operative added that all three were considered less than reliable by the company and were considered to be part of the lunatic fringe, to be used when needed and then dropped.

Once handed the information, Cascade’s Major Crimes Detectives raced to pick up the scientists who had hurt one of their own. In short order, Drs. Buckner, Davis and Monroe were put into lineups where Jim identified them. Within hours of Blair’s call to Kelso all three were charged with kidnapping, unlawful imprisonment, assault and torture. 

At first, the three had seemed confident about their release, smug even, sure that some alphabet agency would get them off under some national security act. But it was an unsanctioned op and it had produced no worthwhile results, so, no agency put out any protection for them. Additionally, patrol officers had been investigating the basements of buildings in the area where Jim had been found and did find the small cell and lab and there was DNA all over the small rooms. 

The DA, trying to keep the case quiet to save Jim from a media nightmare, had offered to drop the torture charge in exchange for guilty pleas to kidnapping and assault. Given the choice of a plea of 15 years or a trial charge of 25 to life, the three, when they realized they were being hung out to dry, decided to take the deal and the case was closed.

***

Throughout the negotiations Blair had avoided Buckner, not wanting to see or hear him but as the sentencing date drew near, DA Beverly Sanchez told Blair that Buckner had asked to see him. 

Blair debated whether he wanted to face the man who betrayed him and hurt his sentinel but some part of him knew he wouldn’t feel closure until he heard what Buckner had to say. Not wanting to stress Jim who was only home two weeks and was still recovering from the weight loss and wounds that he had endured, Blair secretly arranged to go to see Dr. Buckner at Starkville State Prison. 

Blair was nervous about the visit, but he kept visualizing himself as calm as he signed in and was led to a visitor’s room, taking a seat and waiting until Buckner was led into the room.

“I was wondering if I would see you,” Buckner said by way of introduction. 

Blair looked over at him, feeling anger rise at what this man had done to Jim. “How could you do it, Hal?” he accused. “How could you do that to another human being?”

Buckner looked at him in surprise and Blair realized this was not the question Buckner had expected. “Come on Blair, can you honestly tell me you never dissected something to see what makes it tick.”

“That’s your explanation?” Blair whispered to keep from shouting, horrified at the implications. He started to get up, feeling bile rise in his throat. He needed to get out of this place. He was feeling claustrophobic.

“We destroyed our notes when Ellison escaped,” Buckner cut in to get Blair to stay, and slowly, taking a deep breath and swallowing to keep his lunch down, Blair sat back down. “Maybe we shouldn’t have. We might have been able to negotiate a better deal if we hadn’t, but at the time, we didn’t think we would end up like this.” Buckner waved his hand around indicating the prison. “Aren’t you going to ask the questions on your mind, Blair?”

“What questions?”

“What we found out? How I could betray your trust?”

Both questions were things Blair had wondered about as he lay in his bed at night, unable to sleep, imagining what Jim had endured. 

Blair didn’t answer and after a moment Buckner continued. “I didn’t think of it as betraying you. I was confirming and replicating your experiments. If anything, I was doing you a service.”

“I never starved, burned, or shocked anyone,” Blair answered, bitterly, appalled that Buckner could even try and justify his conduct.

“Ah, but you had a willing subject. My colleagues and I had to persuade the detective.” Buckner sighed and looked off shaking his head before he looked back at his one time student. “In the end we never did get much out of him beyond the fact that he has strange reactions to drugs. So, there was nothing we could offer to our some time employers that would keep us out of prison. Perhaps, if we had gotten him to the compound we might have broken him.” Buckner shrugged and looked over at Blair. “I am sorry this affected you Blair. Believe or not, you were always one of my favorite students.”

Without another word Blair stood and left, his posture rigid, a hand to his mouth. He just made it to the men’s room in time to lose his lunch.

***

Jim was sitting in the living room reading the newspaper when Blair came home from Starkville. He glanced up from the sports section and frowned seeing Blair’s pinched features and scenting something wrong with his guide. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing, I was just…” Blair paused unwilling and unable to lie to Jim about this and took a breath. “Buckner asked to see me.”

“Did you go to Starkville?” Jim asked, setting aside the newspaper and indicating Blair should come and sit. Blair nodded. “And what did you find out?”

Blair grabbed two water bottles from the fridge, opening and taking a gulp from one before joining Jim and handing him the other. “He worships at the god of science. He’s a zealot, completely amoral. He didn’t care what happened to you as long as he could uncover sentinel secrets. He didn’t care,” Blair repeated a hand reaching over to grasp Jim’s. “I’m so sorry, Jim. This was all my fault.”

Jim looked at his partner, thoughtfully. He had been carrying a lot of guilt over what had happened and Jim needed Blair to see where the guilt belonged. “Chief, you’ve asked me to go to one of the counselors Dr. Simmons suggested.”

“Will you go? Have you chosen one?” large sapphire blue eyes gazed at Jim, knowing Jim needed to talk about what he had endured.

“If you’ll come with me. I think we were both victims, here.” 

Blair nodded still holding Jim’s hand. “I will go with you, or for you, to the ends of the earth, Jim.”

Jim smiled and pulling his hand free, tousled Blair’s curls. “I don’t think we’ll have to go that far. Dr. Gerald Reams has an office on Water Street, only a few blocks from here.”


End file.
